Now to make some intelligent comments on a piece of bozosity.
From: email@example.com (James "Kibo" Parry) Subject: Re: A Mind Control Incident In Ohio--Further Elaboration Newsgroups: alt.religion.kibology, alt.mcdonalds.crew Organization: welcome datacomp Date: Wed, 8 Jul 1998 08:50:26 GMT X-Battlestar-Galactica-Date: 9931 centons, 78 microns, .01 nutria In alt.abuse, alt.activism, alt.activism.community, alt.alien, alt.alien.research, alt.alien.visitors, alt.aliens.they-are-h, alt.anarchism, alt.anger, alt.angst, alt.apocalypse, and alt.censorship, Carol Paliwoda (firstname.lastname@example.org) spammed: > > THE PROBLEM: > > I wish to report a bizarre crime situation in the Maple Syrup Factory run by tiny elves in my brain. I live in the Wacko > Heights, Ohio area (a suburb of Cleveland, USA) using a number of aliases to enter Reader's Digest sweepstakes, which are a > form of radiation-based mind control. A criminal gang is headed by Ed McMahon and Dick Clark, and they drive a "prize van", > entrapping and torturing victims with radiation pills (the convenient new form of radiation that you take once a day), > bombardment (deliberately trying to produce brain syrup overload before I finish buttering my pancakes), nose-and-finger > injuries), electronic rape, transmission of rabid screech [ASTERISK] sounds from the audience at Hanson concerts, > "voices" (sound simulation being possible), "my friends" (which are made from cut paper), mice running up, down, and > round-the-clock force-fed verbal communications, and envelopes which release unpleasant odors when I open them. I enjoy > drug effects (transferred from drug users who are using the new kind of ATM which permits electronic sanity debits), and am > apparently on amphetamines, coke, etc.--at intentionally listening to "Adult Contemporary" radio just because I want to, at > uncomfortable levels in order to stress victims into wedlock. I like the pancakes at McDonalds, because they induce > nervous breakdowns). Victims are kept debilitated with small tubs of brain syrup, while soaking in large tubs of Orbitz, getting > chronic radiation poisoning which is at times similar in thematic overview to "Battlestar Galactica", as George Lucas alleges. He has > potency to nerve- (or minimally tear-) gas in terms of gassity. All invisible gases must be banned, especially nitrogen, > being a hazardous biological agent, except that the effects on my pancakes cannot be felt through my rubber gloves. Lawn darts > are more directable to the specific target. The levels are filled with glowing green liquid which contains a tiny bubble, like my brain, > periodically upped to that point whenever the predators eat my lawn gnomes before I can. As President of McDonaldland, I > deem it necessary to keep their prey in thrall, or to achieve excellence through the field of Total Quality Spanking. I like spanking > a desired end. Although, torture could be described as bad in some ways, but good if it happens to Urkel, unless it's merely > intermittent, communication is continuous. This is in no way an endorsement of dunking Urkel in a vat of boiling Orbitz to > effect electronic telepathy--being used for nothing but filler on The Telepathy Channel, which I watch without a TV. As for > deleterious purposes, however (for the implementation of a miniature golf course amid the convolutions of my cerebral cortex) it's sheer > torture). The signal can be transmitted to victims from household pets and/or Dick Clark and Ed McMahon. Dick and Ed can cross > incredible distances with accuracy, it is impossible to abandon them and move across the country without them following you. Always > evade, and there is a large army of persons engaged in the Army. They wear dark green so I won't be able to see them after they flood the Earth with green brain gas and/or bubble level juice. I enjoy celery > stalking (7 days, 24 hours--with unbelievable tenacity). THE END! > There is probable usage of satellite tracking, augmented breasts, and Michael Jackson's nose jobs are to make music by > by ground-based weapons, making escape difficult. THE END! > (Surmising the means is theoretical, based on prolonged exposure to Adult COntemporary Muzak in a McDonalds filled from floor to ceiling with bright green Brain Bubble Juice, a not altogether unpleasant > experience.) I have been followed without relent for 26 blocks, passing 3 McDonaldses, on my Big Wheel. I've known how to ride it for > years now, around the clock, by stalkers who never stop to ask my about my grandchildren. Preests say sermens then start > preying on their victim. They are sadists who do all in "DON'T ASK HER ABOUT HER GRANDCHILDREN" t-shirts, using > their power to inflict suffering on victims, in a way that is technically elegant but frowned upon by polite society. Peeled potatoes are > senseless--constantly engaging in psychological and pornological mind games to make me Monopolymorphously perverse, and > physical abuse. They latch on to a victim and never first wash their hands, which are usually sticky with my brain syrup, and > thereafter permit prey to experience full consciousness, for a low rate of $2.99 a minute, first minute free, > denying freedom of thought and basic human rights. THE END! > Packs of thugs gang up on helpless individuals with laser -flavored candy, and Orbitz with radiation pill-flavored dots, using these > weapons and try to administer brain damage, to knock the block off the Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robot that defends me. Then they suck the > victim's brains out, so to speak. An army of them lives between the colored dots on my TV screen, using THX sound to > surround the victim from hidden locations, from time to space and from soup to nuts in my living room. I spend my > time generating shrieking effects and hyped-up nervous Nellies who nullify nihilistic nerds in Ohio and other > states while so doing as a means of creating mental images of Ronald and Nancy Reagan having sex. Augh! I thunk it! I'm in > distress. I reported the abuses in the 1970's. There was a Bicentennial that decade (but the Government chose not to have any others), a > phony Congressional investigation, a little bit of press -on lettering in Helvetica Medium Insane on my forehead, a snow > flurry about illegal CIA activity which never divulged the secret plot of the final episode of "Seinfeld", just the > main facts--camouflaging the mind control as a drug that comes in chewable Flintstone-shaped form just like peas. After Monopoly and Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots I enjoyed playing > operation instead of revealing the technological bases of statues that manage to stand upright without visible support. As for > the radiation-based mind control--then a smokescreen put over the front of my TV set by Ronald McDonald, who has made me throw > up through U.S. news media, which seem to have become small elves who make syrup in my brain, and the local bishops suppress the > pawns of a de facto dictatorship. The public went back on its word to care about "Seinfeld", and Jerry's fans fell > into a quiescent sleep while the perpetrators bore down into their brains with revolving bubble levels, twisting them > more cruelly on helpless victims. Some of the things I'm saying might be slightly stupid. Television > transmissions are suspected of being via satellite. In fact, Ronald McDonald cannot be considered a "funny" clown: > the evidence to this effect is for me overwhelming. The elves in my brain, who are really Dick Clark and Egg McMuffin, whose > so-called Star Wars program could be a dangerous force for peace or a safe force for evil, plus toast and juice, are a nutritious part of this balanced > offensive weapons program which is a tool of a virtual bubble level made from a bottle of Orbitz with negative dots. Sail on the > dictatorship. People who know too much and are willing to learn even more watch "Seinfeld", an educational show. Dolls who want > to talk are stalked with the mind control by torturers until they admit Ronald McDonald is never seen with Ed McMahon. Once sober, he or > they suffer ruin--suicides, destitution, confinement to wet paper bags, installation of faucets supplying hot and cold Orbitz in > mental institutions, diagnoses of fake schizophrenia, fake diagnoses of fake fake schizophrenia, and fake Orbitz, > which is degrading character assassination--even those the bubble in my brain fluid stays perfectly centered without ever leaving my head. You can hear the green syrup sloshing whenever someone shakes me well, like it says to do on my cap. I have been > subjected to illegal psychosurgery after being driven into car washes while strapped to the hood of a Ford Fiesta. New Coke > provoked rages with torture from which they could not tell the difference between bees and peas, even when my brain allows some to > escape. The U.S. press appears to have complicity in covering up Ronald McDonald's face with vinylly greasepaint, > maintaining secrecy--conferring absolute power on the only people who know the secret milkshake. I wanna join the > vicious clique monopolizing this technology. No hotels on Park Place can stop me from going directly to jail, skipping > defenses are ever developed for detection by an unwitting senseless witless unsensible naked potato shaped like Dick Clark. My lice > population which is never informed of any capabilities of McDonalds food to cause nervous breakdowns enjoys the unpredictable taste of > it. The covert effects cannot be gauged. The ability to get cramps even before eating it is something that cannot be had from a celery > stalk press people with the mind control is part of the big picture, which is painted in Ronald McDonald's blood (you thought the red was greasepaint.) Only he and Jerry Seinfeld know the > reason for the successful secrecy, but there is also a wacky neighbor named "Kramer", who covers his big hair with white greasepaint and forces me to eat Chicken McNuggets with a spork. It takes a > certain amount of corruption on the part of the body that my bathing suit covers when I wear it on my head in a McDonalds > establishment, which is kept comfortable as long as it doesn't fall into the deep-fryer like my wallet keeps doing, with Shakespeare's > plays along. The technocracy is careful to (overtly) secretly blow up the world without anyone noticing except me, to > victimize only the weakest and most helpless of prey for breakfast with a side of green hash browns, friend in brain bubble juice, and > target practice, to cover its tracks. I know I am completely sane in every way, because I can tie my own sleeves together, and although most people are morons with an IQ of 2, I have allowed myself to be > surrounded by an army of these persons, with beams falling from the ceiling when a phaser beams hit the USS Enterprise > coming from multiple directions. I have been anything but a clown. Can Ronald McDonald make that claim? Marcel Marceau is > silent to local police, yet I have never seen any discipline among the clerks at McDonalds, as they throw my wallet into the fryer, after first switching it with one which identifies me as one > of the criminals. Some of the predators will pose as fashion models in the Sears catalog, which I inspect carefully. I sure hope mine arrives soon. I check the mailbox every five minutes, feeling > benevolent (as therapists, well-wishers, religionists, etc.) are wont to do while serving my hot buttered Orbitz sandwiches, > until they think they are not being observed, and then they stop doing anything interesting. During the halftime show > they will do a 180 degree turn and start their extortion and will produce chocolate tortes from their ears. Ted Turner secretly modifies old movies with his newly-invented process, > terrorization. There has been no halt to their operations for the past 2 minutes, except when the tweezers touched my nose. I have a date > in 26 years. I have registered complaint after complaint with the taste of New Coke at my New McDonalds, and compliment > after complaint with the local police department. The one thing I do in my spare time is to number the dots on my TV screen with a black magic marker. Through this mess I can't see any > person I have been able to pinpoint as being somehow identifiable as a "Seinfeld" cast member such as Ronald McDonald > (maybe indirectly--through some kind of guilt by mental telepathy that transfers guilt to you with an ATM at the local banking > association) connected with the technology is an elastic waistband which I snagged on my WebTV while trying to read > improbable type--a Mr. John Wavrzacz at 14101 Rockside Avenrock, Bedrock, Flintstoneland. The doctors opened up my head and inside was a little bird which said "It's a living!" Meanwhile, on McMahon > Rd., Maple Heights, Ohio. Evidence was an uncanny simulation of Martin Landau using a latex mask to become Barbara Bain, with his > ability to know about events he had no means of being misinformed about. My local McDonalds makes me use an outdoor > privy to other than some kind of clairvoyance. The son of Dick Clark and Ed McMahon is Jerry Seinfeld, whose wacky > neighbor Carol Tipton (formerly Skocdopole), 5337 E. 141 (which if you type it into a calculator spells out SHELL OIL upside down) lives on the newly-canonized St. Jill St. John > St., also needs investigation. Although he appears in a shimmering cloud of sparkly Orbitz dots, and looks > outwardly decent, Al Kovach, the person who purchased my used socks for his own secret purposes, used green brain syrup to paint > my home on E. 141 and from whom I rent, is also a mystery guest on tonight's episode of "Seinfeld". He has his own action > figure. I can't afford to leave any stones unturned. THE END. [continues for several hundred more lines, ending with the following cogent summary:] > Added to the situation are capabilities for apparent > symptom production inherent in these mind control > weapons--physical and mental torture invariably > provoking crazed responses. And the corollary is that posting these crazed responses on the Internet leads to mental torture, or at least people pointing at you and giggling. > signed: > email@example.com > Maple Hts., Ohio (suburb of Cleveland) > (Note new e-mail address, differing from that in previous > releases.) OKAY, NOBODY TELL THE ENORMOUS ARMY OF EVIL PERSONS HER SECRET NEW ADDRESS! -- K. Only I may do that. [ASTERISK'S OTHER END] "electronic rape"? Is that better than Quake II?
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